Jack Black and I-want-to-go-into-your-Chamber -of-Secrets-IYKWIM
by ChaosGamer
Summary: The long awaited sequel to my very own story! (Apparently the first story is deleted by FFN. Will reupload after megavamping,) After a month of summer vacation in his house, Jack is back and better than ever, with improved story-lines, grammar, and more original content. I suggest you read my first book... or not. I'm a summary, not a cop.
1. Intro

Jack paced back and forth in his room.

So far, Harry has not been responding to his letters; and he sent loads of letters to him. Ranging from his letter to him sent after first week into summer vacation, to Harry's birthday gift he sent a week and a half ago.

Either it was those pesky muggles bullying Harry, or it was his owl was going to a completely different address, which was very unlikely. Piled on his bed was the letters he exchanged with Ron; apparently he too was unsuccessful in communicating with Harry.

_Click click._

An owl flapped his wings on his window, striking his beak against the window impatiently. It held a scrolled up parchment on his legs. Walking up to the window Jack opened the window and the owl flew in, several stray feathers falling randomly on to the floor. It immediately landed on his table right next to his dinner plate, and began to nibble on his sausage.

Jack promptly took the letter off and unrolled them.

* * *

_Second-year students will require:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk_

_Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart_

* * *

Jack boggled his eyes as he began to read down the list. Some strange book list they had this year; seven out of eight of them were written by a same bloke!

Sitting on his chair he left the letter on his table, stretching his arms out for a yawn. He looked around searching for potential source of entertainment; it was a day to become frightfully mad when he became bored. Standing up, Jack marched on to the coat hanger and reached for his cloak.

"Going somewhere?"

Jack turned around. It was Phineas, or his great-great-great grandfather, on his very own portrait.

"What up gramps?"

Phineas frowned. "I demand more respectable choice of words when speaking to me, Procyon Black."

Jack scowled. "I told you, my name is Jack, not Procyon. What kind of name is Procyon? It's just another name of some stupid star; I'll be the laughing stock at the school." Jack grimaced as he imagined the potential disaster that could be caused by the revelation of his true name. "I'm going to get supplies."

"That name was given to you by birth, and you will be proud of that name." Phineas scolded him.

"I'll be the only one in the school with that stupid name." Jack complained. "All my other friends have perfectly normal-"

_Click click._

Another owl, much larger than the school owl still eating his sausage - Jack briefly wondered where the sausage all went - was striking the window with much less force. Upon being admitted entrance the owl swooped in, flapping in wings in haste to get rid his letter on his legs. Jack untied the letter; Paul joined the school owl in pecking the sausage. Jack now began to read his second letter of the day.

* * *

Dear Jack,

I received a letter from Ron saying that Harry received a letter from the Ministry of Magic saying that he used magic in his house, and that they plan to rescue Harry from his muggle home. I sent a letter of reply and caution, but so far he has not written a response for over a week (probably because of their old owl.). I wished to send you a letter, but you know fully well that I do not have an owl of my own; than here comes your owl to my house. What luck! I am planning to visit London with my parents to buy my schoolbooks this Wednesday; hope to see you there! Let me know what you think.

Love, from Hermione.

* * *

So much for his plans today. Jack grabbed a paper from his desk and immediately started to write a reply.

* * *

To Hermione,

Sounds good.

Jack.

* * *

Jack stood back for a moment, and began to chuckle at the succinctness of his letter. Rolling up his paper he beckoned Paul, Paul's expression of exasperation clearly evident - or was it a normal facial feature for owls? - And tied the letter to his legs, and watched it leave.

He turned to the school owl that was still eating his sausage. Jack began to wave his arms in protest.

"Shoo! Shoo! You ate enough of my food already-"

The owl, clearly affronted began to fly out quickly. Jack quickly shut the window; finally, he was done dealing with owls. He sat down slowly, and glanced at his sausage; half of it was gone.

Jack took off his hat and his cloak and sat down on his chair, going back to reading _Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks_ while grabbing a two pronged fork, piercing his sausage and munching on it, mourning and longing for the other half of his meat.

His room drastically contrasted other rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place, being completely revolutionized with muggle technology. With florescent lights above the room instead of candles, wallpapers of James Brown, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Michael Jackson, Jim Morrison, and other famous muggles, with muggle Luxo brand desk lap resembling the small hopping desk lamp included in Pixar's corporate logo, muggle desk stacked with books such as The Bible, keyboard on the sliding panel beneath the desk and Windows 3.1x placed on top of the desk with the large tower beneath the desk, with no trace of Quill and Ink but instead replaced by #2 pencils and mechanical pencils, all the parchments replaced by modern muggle paper, a Nokia 3310 phone, and to top it all off a muggle mini fan ridding the room of heat. It was a sorry sight to Phineas Nigellus, who tutted with shame every time he glanced inside the room.

Jack took a glance at his calendar on his door; Wednesday was tomorrow. Jack began to briefly wonder about the reason of Harry's lack of reply; perhaps he had quarrel with his muggle family, and deprived of his letter privileges. Or maybe he was ignoring them, however unlikely.

Than there comes the news that Harry attempted magic inside his home in presence of the muggles; Harry clearly knew that was forbidden. He must be in some sort of pickle, it seemed. If Ron's rescue party included the twins, Jack was very sorry not to have gone along with them.


	2. The Vault

_Cuckoo!_

_Cuckoo!_

_Cuck-_

Jack sprang out of bed; his hair wild and his eyes still half-way closed. He glanced at the clock; the short hand pointed toward the eight. Yawning, he began to rub out rheum from his eyes. For some reason he could not remember falling to sleep; he must have dozed off at his desk and subconsciously crawled into the bed. Stretching his arms out he rose out of bed and began to stumble toward the bathroom, grabbing a towel hanging on the bedpost.

He vaguely began to plan out his day while half-asleep in the shower. Not only would he buy the required books, but there were extra books he needed... for preparations against _him_.

Thank God that wizard plumbing systems were up to date; he couldn't imagine having to wash the old fashioned way, and it would be too much to explain to the muggle plumbers that there was a mysterious apartment between number eleven and thirteen.

Twisting the shower knob tightly, he began to step out of the bathroom filled with steam; putting his bath robe on he collapsed to the bed.

He felt so lazy.

But, no rest for the wicked; after 5 minutes to doing nothing he sat up and began to change his clothing.

He sat on his desk, and took a deep breath.

He called out: "Kreacher!"

With a crack, the said elf appeared before him.

"Yes Master Black?"

"I'm planning to get some supplies today..."

"I wish you a safe trip master."

"Yeah. Thanks. And then after that, I plan to spend the rest of the summer in the Burrow-"

Jack finished hurriedly when he saw Kreacher opening his mouth.

"-With you."

Kreacher slowly closed in mouth.

Jack held his breath; he fully well knew that Kreacher did not appreciate the presence of so called "Blood Traitors".

"...The Weasleys, master?"

"Yeah."

Several long seconds passed.

"I would be delighted."

Jack breathed in relief. "Perfect. You won't have to see them any more than necessary."

The elf slowly nodded.

"But first thing's first; I'll be going now!"

"Be back soon, master."

"No worries; I won't be gone for long."

Jack walked up to the fireplace; taking out his wand, he gave a tap at the logs.

"_Incendio._"

The logs slowly began to go ablaze. Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the silver cauldron sitting on the side, Jack threw them inside and entered the fire.

"Leaky Cauldron!"

And he was gone.

* * *

Jack immediately saw the stone floor speeding toward him; it was only his hands that saved his head from being busted. Standing up, he began to dust himself off; floo travel really disorientated him.

"Why, hello Mr. Black."

Jack looked up to see Tom, the innkeeper behind the counter with amused expression.

"Hello Mr. Tom." Jack politely replied. "I'm here to buy my supplies for the school."

"Ahh," Mr. Tom smiled. "It's that time of the year again."

"Yes sir."

"I wonder; what books do they make you read this year?"

Jack took out his booklist from his bag and handed toward Tom.

Taking out and wearing his pince-nez, began to go down the list. He clicked his tongue.

"Oh, this won't do at all." He shook his head. "Why, seven out of eight books were written by this Lockhart fellow! I do wonder who he is. Why, the only thing I know about him is that he won the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times!"

"Five times." Jack repeated slowly. He suddenly found himself sitting on a chair.

"Yes, five times. He is what all witches talk about." Tom chuckled as he took out a glass. "Tea?"

"Sure. Thank you."

"Ah, I do remember my own time in Hogwarts..." Tom began to take out a kettle and poured the tea into the cup.

"Long time ago, wasn't it, sir?"

"Yes indeed." Tom nodded. "Professor Armando Dippet was the Headmaster at the time, and goodness me, he is still alive." Tom heartily chuckled. "He might not live longer, I'm afraid."

"Why, when was he born?" Jack asked, sipping on the cup of tea.

"Oh, 1630's, or around that." Tom nonchalantly replied.

Jack spit out his tea to the side and began to cough as Tom laughed at his reaction. "Yes, over 3 centuries; now that's a long life!"

"Gee." Jack wiped his mouth. "I hope to live that long."

"You and me, Mr. Black. You and me."

"Well, I gotta get going." Jack placed the empty cup on the counter. "Thank you for the tea, Mr. Tom."

"Anytime my lad."

* * *

Jack walked up to the multistoried marble building towering above all other shops. A goblin was stationed outside the bronze doors. He bowed as Jack walked up the stairs; Jack lowered in head in response. He came up to silver door guarded by a pair of goblins, bowing as he entered.

Hundreds of goblins were sitting behind long counters in the vast marble hall. Counting coins, writing down notes, weighing rubies on large brass scales. Many goblins were showing people in and out through countless doors.

Jack went up to a free goblin.

"Hello. I would like to take some gold out of vault 711, please."

The goblin lowered his head, peering above the top rim of his glasses toward Jack.

"Identification?"

Jack blinked.

"Identification? As in..."

"Your wand will do."

Jack took out his wand and gave it to the goblin. He examined the wand.

"Seems to be in the right order." Goblin gave his wand back. "Come this way, please."

Jack followed the goblin into one of the doors leading out of the hall. The door opened to the narrow stone passageway, with a cart ready on the rails; Jack and the goblin stepped into the cart. They began to go down very deeply into the passageway, twisting and turning in circles.

After a while they stopped right beside a small door on the side of the tunnel. Jack and the goblin hopped off, as the goblin touched the door with his finger; the door swung open, releasing masses of greens smoke.

"Am I able to do that?" Jack asked.

"If anyone else besides the goblins tried to do that, they would be sucked right in, with no way out."

"Hmm." Jack peered inside the vault when the smoke cleared.

The vault was filled with grandeur of Black Family treasures; heaps upon heaps of coins pilled on to the ceiling. Items such as goblets, flasks, and etc were piled on the bottom.

Jack's mouth fell open.

"Yeah... Give me a second here." Jack stepped into the vault. "I gotta look at these sweet objects."

The goblin crossed his arms and waited, leaning on the door.

Jack wished he had multiple eyes; the treasures in his vault seemed like they were taken out of the treasure cave of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, or taken out of the cave of Smaug in the Lonely Mountains of the town of Dale. He began to examine the precious objects on the ground; silver goblets with Black family crest embossed on them, rings, necklaces, bracelets, elaborate daggers, mirrors, and other precious objects littered on the ground.

One particular item caught his eyes; a thin hip flask on the ground. It was made of silver, four inches long and one inch thick. It had a piece of black obsidian in a shape of capital B encrusted on the front of the flask, while on the back there were white lining of the words: Toujours Pur.

Upon opening the flask he found a mysterious liquid inside with little viscosity, swirling inside the container.

Shrugging, Jack slowly pocketed the flask.

After 5 minutes of looking around, Jack regained his wit and began to scoop in some coins inside his bag; slugging it over his shoulders he walked back to the door.

"Ok, thanks for waiting; I'm done now."

The goblin closed the door and stepped into the cart.


	3. The Bookstore

Jack patiently waited, sitting on the far left side of the marble steps into the Gringotts. If he had the right time they were supposed to be here by now... What was taking them so long?

Either they were late or he came on the wrong day-

"Jack! Jack!"

Jack turned to see a bushy haired witch running up toward him.

"Hey Hermione." Jack grinned.

"Hey Jack, it's nice to see you; my parents are inside the Gringotts. I had to do something else so they went inside the Gringotts first. We were planning to get some money." Hermione explained.

"Oh. I just got my money from my vault."

"Do you know where Harry and Weasleys are?"

"Well- there's Harry, running up to us."

Hermione turned around to see Hagrid walking by them, Harry jogging next to him to keep up.

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Hermione and Jack ran down the steps to greet them.

"What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid — Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again — Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys,"

"Hey Hagrid. But I thought Harry was with the Weasleys?" asked Jack.

"Harry got seperat'd." Hagrid explained. "Floo powder messed up. Ah, there's the Weasleys!"

They turned around to see running up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far... " He mopped his head. "Molly's frantic - she's coming now -"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"Excellent!" Said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

Mrs. Weasley now came running into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere -"

She pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot from Harry. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, fixed.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley. "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron, Hermione and Jack as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

"No, he was selling -"

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as entered the Gringotts. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew -"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're Muggles!" Said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione and Jack as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

Going up to a goblin money exchanger, Mr. Granger began to speak. "Good morning. We would like to convert some... how you call it... muggle. Muggle money, please, into... Galleons, if that's how you pronounce it."

"I see." The goblin nodded his examining his paper. "The current exchange rates for Galleons are 15 pounds per Galleon."

"15 pounds..." Mr. Granger began to count his notes.

"You'll need to spend at least 540 pounds to buy all the textbooks needed in new condition." Mr. Weasley informed Mr. Granger.

"Ah. Thank you." Mr. Granger took out 700 pounds. "I would like to exchange this much, thank you."

The goblin counted the notes, and then took out 46 Galleons, 1 Sickel, and 5 Knuts.

"Have a nice day." said the goblin as they walked away.

"That should be plenty for you to spend your books on and to use the leftover for the rest of the term." Mr. Granger said as he gave some money to Hermione.

"Thanks dad." Hermione smiled as the Weasleys and Harry joined them outside the Gringotts.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, walking off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

After their hour of enjoyment, they head toward Flourish and Blotts; the shop was unusually full today, with wizards clamoring loudly and demanding their entrance. On the upper windows there hanged a huge banner with following words:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"So we finally get to meet this bloke." Jack commented.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

"Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there..."

An unfortunate wizard was stationed at the entrance with little success in controlling the crowd.

"Mind the books, now..."

Grunting with pressure, The Fab Four squeezed inside; it was a mess inside the bookstore. A long line was stretched all the way into the back of the shop, with much noise and general uncomfortableness. Each grabbing a copy of *The Standard Book of Spells,

Grade 2*, they slowly walked up to the rest of Weasleys and Grangers.

"Oh, there you are, good." Said Mrs. Weasley, matting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

As the Gilderoy Lockhart came into the view, Jack was immediately blinded by his teeth.

"Ooowww... It burns, it burns..." Jack moaned, shielding his eyes.

"Oh hush." Hermione scowled.

Large black cameras puffed off purple smokes as they snapped pictures.

"God, that teeth can blind Voldemort..." Jack shook his head as he averted his gaze. His eyes fell on the bookshelf opposite toward him; a very dusty one at that. No one apparently bothered a glance toward it. It was filled with books to brim; most of them having no name on their spines.

But right at the bottom of the bookshelf there were a stack of books, with an empty space on the bottom of the stack, about a size of a book; it was as if the whole stack of books were levitated by some magic.

The signing of the books apparently forgotten, Jack slowly walked up toward the stack of books; holding up his hands, he slowly felt the empty space - which was not, because he felt a spine of a book.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Gilderoy Lockhart loudly, grabing Jack's attention. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Jack shook his head, giving his attention toward the stack of books; that explained why the booklist were filled with his works.

Enchanted with wonder, Jack slowly lifted the stack, pulling an invisible item - a book. He was gripped by fascination as he caressed his hand over the smooth cover; just what was this thing?

A thud of metal flying snapped him out of his reverie; Mr. Weasley seemed to have charged at Lucius.

Putting the book in the middle of his stack of school materials, Jack ran forward, pulling Ginny and Hermione toward him to safety as stacks of books dangerously scattered all over where they once stood. There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!".

"Gentlemen, please — please!" Cried the assistant - than Hagrid came in.

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up —" Hagrid pulled Mr. Weasley and Lucius apart.

Lucius was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice. "Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur..."

Hagrid's words faded from his ears as Jack took a look in Ginny's face; it was a mixture of annoyance, embarrassment, and shame.

"Hey Ginny." Jack walked up to her. "When is your birthday?"

Ginny looked up. "It was eight days ago."

Jack whistled. "A bit over a week... That's not bad..." leading Ginny to first grade materials, Jack proceeded to buy bunch of textbooks.

"Here - your late birthday present." Jack placed the books inside her cauldron - blushing furiously, Ginny repeated her words of gratitude over and over - "Don't worry about it." Jack waved his hands. "Its to make up for last 11 years of cumulative presents..."

Suddenly, a thin notebook dropped from one of the second-hand copy of a book he was discarding; After a glance - as if she had a sudden urge - Ginny hastily grabbed the book.

"It's my diary."

A diary. Jack raised his eyebrows; until he caught the sight of the retreating backs of Weasleys.

"We should get going."

The journey back to the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron was a subdued one - Mrs. Weasley was beside herself with fury.

"A _fine_ example to set for your children..." Mrs. Weasley growled. "_brawling_ in public... _what_ Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -"

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Did you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity —"

Jack felt the empty space between his stack of books, making sure that it was still there. He hoped to be able to make it visible.


	4. The Sorting

Jack was very content on his last month in the Weasley Household; after 30 days of living alone, it sure felt good to have some company. Kreacher was doing better than he expected; he did not linger around in the household 24/7, but he did visit from time to time. Jack did feel bad for dragging Kreacher into a place he disliked; but it was crazy, living alone.

But trouble came on the day they were supposed to leave at the train; despite waking up at dawn, they had host of things to do. People stumbled about in their nightclothes, gathering their stuff for departed.

The fact that Jack was semi-asleep did not help matters; they had their worst accident for that day when Ginny bumped into Jack at the top of the stairs.

Helplessly he went tumbling down - Thump, thump, thump - skipping every few stairs until he reached the bottom.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" Jack yelled has his body hammered against the wooden stairs.

Ginny shrieked, dropping her things and covering her mouth in shock.

"Ow... Ow..."

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

The twins didn't even bother to hold back their tears of laughter.

"-I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Faceplanting on the floor, Jack slowly stood up, groaning and moaning, feeling his injuries.

"Ow, ow, ow... talk about a morning wake me up... God in heaven, it hurts so much..."

It was not the only injury that day; Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's luggage to the car. Ron made a hole in the wall while trying to squeeze his trunk through the hallway. Percy, while trying to run carrying his bag, slipped and broke the door to the bathroom due to momentum.

The situation was, indeed, a mess.

Jack all dressed in his robes walked to the car holding his trunk; he had been in muggle cab before, and did not see how they all would fit in the car. Opening the vehicle, he saw that the space inside had been magically increased; the inside of the car was not unlike a limousine interior split in half and attached to each other side by side.

Jack placed his trunk inside... well, the trunk and climbed inside the car. Soon Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy joined him inside, with plenty of room to wiggle.

Mrs. Weasley took a look inside the car - "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" - She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley turned his key on the ignition, driving the car out of the garage; less than 60 seconds later, George cried out:

"Whoa, hold on; I forgot my fireworks!"

Thus, they were forced to wait in the car until George ran back to the car. But less than 5 minutes after that, Fred cried out:

"Wait, stop! I forgot my broomstick!"

They were forced to turn back and drive to the house. Finally, after Fred brought his broomstick, they drove interruption free until they reached the highway, when Ginny shrieked:

"I forgot my diary!"

Mrs. Weasley sighed as she placed her head against the dashboard.

* * *

"Molly, dear —"

"No, Arthur —"

"No one would see — this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed — that'd get us up in the air — then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser —"

"I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight —"

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station. Jack walked up to the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten; after Percy and Mr. Weasley stealthy went through, Jack followed.

He looked up to see a gleaming red train, resembling James the Red Engine; the station was crowded by people boarding on the train; following Percy, Jack carried his trunk up to the steps and into a compartment. Jack turned around, expecting to see Harry and Ron follow - but they were not there. He turned around, confused; where were they?

Dragging his trunk behind him, Jack walked down in the train, looking for place to sit; they came very close to being late; most of the compartments were filled. He finally spotted Hermione at the last room of second last compartment.

"Hey Hermione." The door to the compartment slid open. "Have you see Harry and Ron?" He sat down in the seat opposite to her.

"No, I thought they would be with you."

"So did I. But when I entered the train they didn't follow; I thought they gave me a slip somehow."

"Alright, let's go find them." Hermione stood up.

Somewhat reluctantly, Jack stood up also; his feet were weary.

* * *

"Oi, Hermione, lets rest for a moment. My feet are killing me."

"This is not the time to rest! Our best friends are missing!"

"I know; but moving around won't help very much when it is very likely that they might also be searching for us."

Hermione could not argue with that logic; they walked back to their compartment aweary, and they found Ginny sitting inside, alone.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione sat down next to her.

"Hey Hermione." replied Ginny, searching her school bags.

"I don't get it; they should be here with us right now..." Jack sighed, ruffling his hair. "What happened to them?"

"Harry and Ron? I thought you were with them?" Ginny looked up. "You can't find them?"

"No... We have no idea where they are." Hermione sighed.

"Well lets go find them!" Ginny stood up.

"We tried." replied Jack in tired voice. "Everywhere. Its like they simply disappeared."

"Well, we can't just sit here!"

Jack merely grunted, slumping in his seat. He had little energy to move.

* * *

The train slowed to a halt at the Hogsmeade station; Jack stepped onto the cold platform, Ginny and Hermione on his tail.

"Firs' years this way!" Called a familiar voice. Jack turned to see the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake, including Ginny, who was waving her hand to them, looking nervous.

Walking out onto a rough mud track there were numerous stagecoaches waiting to be boarded in, each pulled by a winged horse with skeletal body. Jack and Hermione boarded onto the carriages.

"I still don't see Harry or Ron..." Hermione looked around.

Jack took a look around also; it was unnerving, unable to know where his best friends were. Just where were they?

The carriage propelled onward for a short while, toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars. Stepping out from the carriage once it stopped, they walked through the castle gates, turning right in the Entrance Hall into the Great Hall.

Numerous candles in midair emitted their light, reflecting off of the gold plates, goblets, and utensils. Jack and Hermione walked toward the far side of the hall and sat down on the Gyffindor table.

"I still see no signs of them!" Hermione glanced around, hoping to catch a hint of her friends.

Jack craned his neck around the hall. She was right; their friends were still missing. But where did they go?

The doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall lead a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. Spotting a fiery redhead in the crowd, Hermione and Jack waved toward her.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into a song:

**At the Hogwarts long ago**

**When their lives were due,**

**Each Founder did their part**

**And I was made anew.**

**I know all of your doubts,**

**This hat was here for long**

**But if I may gain your trust,**

**You'll be where you belong**

**Brave Godric Gryffidor,**

**He felt no such thing as fear**

**Wise Rowena Ravenclaw,**

**To great wisdom did she adhere**

**Sly Salazar Slytherin,**

**Nothing stood in his way**

**Loyal Helga Hufflepuff,**

**Hardworking did she portray**

**Those four Founders made this school,**

**School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**To shelter and teach was their goal,**

**To build the world's greatest academy**

**In the House of Hufflepuff,**

**The loyal and faithful will reside**

**Students always noble and true,**

**Caring and Justice they abide**

**The cunning House of Slytherin,**

**Resourcefulness and Craftiness**

**Great ambition, quest for power,**

**Pure Bloodedness they express**

**Clever House of Ravenclaw,**

**Always blessed with Ingenuity**

**Students of prudence and wisdom**

**All admire their creativity**

**Audacious House of Gryffindor**

**Fearlessness they exhibit**

**Valiant warriors, relied on battle**

**On face of fear courage they elicit**

**So go ahead, try me on,**

**Best use of your brains I can foretell**

**For I am never ever wrong**

**This hat will show you where you'll dwell.**

The Sorting Hat closed his "lips" once more, and the entire Great Hall broke into applause. Jack wondered briefly on whether the hat lived on showmanship.

"That was a pretty good song wasn't it?" Hermione commented. "So it comes up with different songs each year, I suppose."

"Yeah, it was." Jack clapped along the rest of the crowd. "I bet he loves all this attention."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Aubrey, Silas!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Birchenough, Cody!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Braswell, Katharine!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Creevy, Colin!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Harper, Kelvin!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Lashbrook, Kayley!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Newlin, Quinn!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Treadway, Sofia!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Weasley, Ginny!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Jack clapped along with the rest of the Gryffindor table; Fred and George congratulated Ginny as she joined them.

The Sorting continued on until Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll, and removed the hat and the stool. Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! And now, enjoy our start of the term banquet!"

Food sprang out from the gold plates and drinks appeared in the goblets; Jack ate and drank with great gusto.

"Hey guys, did you hear?" Seamus Finnigin said, his face conveying plain excitement. "Harry and Ron flew a car all the way to Hogwarts!"

Hermione dropped her fork.

_Clang._

_"What!?_" Hermione shrieked.

"Yeah! They crashed into the Whupping Willow, and Snape caught them; rumor has it that they are getting expelled."

"Expel Harry Potter?" Jack snickered as Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. "Yeah, when pigs fly!"

"But... But it's just a rumor right?" Hermione looked desperate. "Surely it can't be true!"

"Well, those two are not here with us." Dean Thomas piped in. "Where else could they be?"

"...No. It can't be true." Hermione frowned. "I mean, come on; you guys just heard that story from someone else."

"Oi, if Ron really did fly our car all the way to here," said Fred. "I got a bone to pick with him."

"And he didn't invite us." George shook his head. "But if he really did fly that car, we are so proud of him; a prank before the term even started! Our little Ickle Ronniekins all grown up..." George wiped away a fake tear in his eyes.

"This is serious!" Hermione yelled. "Do you have any idea how much trouble they are in if they really did fly a car all the way here? They probably will get expelled!"

"Eh, they love Harry too much." George waved his hand. "And it wouldn't be fair to expel Ron but not Harry. They're safe."

Hermione nervously pursed her lips as they finished their feast. Walking up to their dormitories, they spotted Harry and Ron standing on the front of the Fat Lady portrait.

"_There_ you are! Where have you _been_? The most _ridiculous_ rumors - someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying _car_!" Hermione rushed toward them.

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you _did_ fly here?" said Hermione and Jack at the same time, Hermione sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall and Jack's eyes glinting mischievously.

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's "wattlebird,'" said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point -"

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people will be talking about that one for years -"

Students after students went their way up to Harry and Ron to show their admiration; however caught short by Percy's disapproval noticed by Harry.

"Got to get upstairs - bit tired," Ron said, catching Harry's signal; the two of them started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

"'Night," Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's.

"I can't believe," Hermione seethed after Harry and Ron entered their dorms. "That they actually did that!"

"Neither can I." Jack agreed, but for a different reason.

Perhaps they were true Marauders after all.


	5. The Idiot Supreme

Walking into the Great Hall and sitting down for breakfast, Jack, upon observing the food, took out his notebook.

Not just any notebook, mind you. Its name was _The Most Detailed History of Food Served at Hogwarts_. Once he finishes his schooling, it will be a bestseller novel, and a handwritten copy will be stored in the Restricted Section, its ornate covers to be admired at the distance. And who knows? Perhaps it could be future Hermione's favorite book; well, more like future Ron but no matter.

Let's see... September 2nd, 1992... Porridge, kippers, toast, eggs, and bacon. Good stuff, thought Jack as he placed his notebook away and helped himself to a hearty portion of the meal.

Paul came soaring from the window, carrying a parcel; it swooped down next to him, and upon being freed from the box he began to nip the bacon on his plate.

Jack opened the box only to find a letter inside. Why anyone would bother to use a box to deliver a letter, he did not know, until he tried to reach the letter and quickly found out the he couldn't; his hands were held back by some sort of force field.

Ah. His invisible book. Turning the box upside down he caught the book and the paper floated down on to the table. Picking up the letter, Jack began to read the words:

* * *

To Master Black,

It is my utmost disappointment to inform you that I was not able to reveal the contents of the book you have presented to me. I do hope that you do not get overly angry at Kreacher for his failure.

Your Servant,

Kreacher.

* * *

Jack grimaced. Kreacher was far too serious about this; if he couldn't do it, no big deal. No need to beat himself up. His hypothesis on a way to make the book visible was interrupted by a roar of sound.

"— _**STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —"**_

Cringing, Jack dropped his utensils, and covered his ears.

"— _**LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —"**_

Egh. He felt glad that he was not the one getting yelled at.

"— _**ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."**_

Jack massaged his ears. He had to be the one to be standing right next to the Howler.

Hermione closed _Voyages with Vampires_ and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Chewing his bacon, Jack observed that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

Leaving the castle, they reached the greenhouse joining the students that were waiting for Professor Sprout; soon she walked onto the lawn with Professor Lockhart, holding bandages in her arms.

Wait, what? Bandages? Since when did trees need bandages? Jack looked at the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches in slings - Oh Good Lord, this was hilarious.

"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels..."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" Snapped Professor Sprout.

Hmm. Greenhouse three. What about Greenhouse two?

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. "Harry!" Lockhart intercepted the said boy. "I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face. Jack spotted the slight hint of jealousy in Hermione's face as Lockhart dragged Harry out of the view.

Professor Sprout, it looked like, decided to wait until Harry was finished talking to Lockhart; the students inside the Greenhouse began to chat.

"Why do you think Lockhart wanted to talk to Harry?" Jack asked Ron as Jack began to examine the earmuffs on the bench.

"Dunno." said Ron, as he sadly stared at his broken wand. "Maybe about the picture taken at the Flourish and Blotts."

Harry came back inside, looking taken aback. Whatever Lockhart said to Harry it couldn't have been good. When Harry had taken his place between Jack and Ron, Professor Sprout started.

Their lesson today was on Mandrakes; little plant-babies that had a scream of a banshee. Their job was to pull them out of the trays and placing them inside the plant pot. Earmuffs were essential to this, if you didn't want to be knocked out cold.

"Five to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff he did not know - well, he never bothered to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking each of them by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter... And you're Hermione Granger — always top in everything..." (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "Jack Black, the Prankster, rival of The Twins..." (Jack gave him a thumbs up - with his other hand) "— and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.

Darn. Taking care of Mandrakes was hard; they struggled, kicking and fighting and refusing to come out of the dirt, and they refused to go back in it. With their grubby little hands they tried to pry their fingers off of them; very soon Jack found himself covered in dirt and grime.

After the hour passed, everyone trudged back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

"Good Morning students." Professor McGonagall addressed the class. "We are stepping up in our Tranfiguration a bit more. The lesson today is to turn a beetle into a button. The incantation is _Muscula Conjectaneum_. Repeat after me."

"_Muscula Conjectaneum._" The entire class responded.

"Good. Keep in mind that this spell can also be used on any insects to turn them into small objects. Now I want everybody to grab a beetle and practice this spell."

It was harder than it looked; the beetle desperately scuttled around the table, determined to give them a hard time - or more like afraid of being transfigured.

_POOF._

Right next to Jack, Ron's wand burst out a grey smoke; distinct smell of rotten egg reached his nose.

"Pheeew! Urgh."

Students around Ron automatically took a step backwards; Ron, fumbling around in smoke, hit the desk with its elbow.

_Splat!_

The beetle was crushed.

Professor McGonagall stepped up. Twisting her wand, the smoke cleared. All that remained on the desk was a flat mess of exoskeleton and blood.

She handed Ron a new beetle, her mouth thinning.

* * *

They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"Who we have this afternoon?" Said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Oh really? Jack began to lean over to look at her schedule. Hermione snatched the paper back, blushing furiously.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry, Jack, and Ron stood talking about Quidditch.

"When are the Quidditch tryouts held?" Jack asked.

"They are held at the second week of the school." Ron explained. "The captain decides which day to hold it, though."

"How about you Ron? You could try Quidditch."

"Oh. That." Ron scratched his head. "Don't think I am that good with Quidditch…"

Jack briefly glanced at Harry, engaged in conversation with a first-year holding a camera.

"-and it'd be really good if I had one of you" — he looked imploringly at Harry — "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

...What?

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard.

Oh great. The big bad bully turned up.

He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin.

"Jealous?" Said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: Half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mommy will have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "If you put another toe out of line —"

A knot of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house —"

Tch. His insults lacked originality; always milking the same thing over and over.

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Cripes. As if the big bad bully was enough; now the Idiot Supreme stepped in.

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry! Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry.

Ron glared heatedly toward the retreated backs of Slytherins, their noses in the air; than Jack had a sudden inspiration.

Reaching down into his bag, he pulled out a thin cylindrical vial with light yellow liquid inside; gaining the attention of Ron and Hermione by poking their shoulder, he tapped the phial with his wand - the liquid inside began to harden - and then he rolled it toward the Slytherins.

"Any second now." Jack whispered. "Five, four, three, two-"

_Snap._

_Boom._

The vial split in half; sparks flew out as blinding white cloud surrounded the Slytherins, and they began to stumble around in blind panic.

"Brilliant!" Ron chortled - Hermione tsked disapprovingly but smiled nonetheless - "What was that?"

"Flashbang Potion. My own invention." Jack grinned. "Temporalily makes you blind - I got the inspiration from the muggle stun grenade."

"Stun grenade?" Hermione turned toward Jack. "How do you know about them?"

"Eh. Saw some TV show concerning S.W.A.T or Special Force. I don't remember. I saw it inside the muggle mall - whatchama call it - Walmart."

"You visited _Walmart!?_"

"I was bored."

Entering the classroom, they sat around Harry, whose face was red as a pepper.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start — now!"

Jack stared at the piece of paper on his desk.

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? _

What is This? This is a quiz they are taking in DADA class? This was pure bull. Pure bull.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac."

Yep, that's it; he was not in his right mind.

"I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic people-"

The most logical thing he said all day.

"-though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to

Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

". . . But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potion — good girl! In fact" — he flipped her paper over — "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

WHAT? NO! Hermione! Don't go to the dark side!

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so — to business —"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind!"

Oh, so the git is finally getting to the business.

"You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Dis is gonna b gud.

Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

...Thats it. If one more word comes out of that nimrod he was going to flip the table.

"Hahahahahahaha..."

"Laugh if you will, Mr. Finnigan, but pixies can be devilish tricky little blighters. Let's see what you make of them, ha!"

And he opened the cage.

Oh for the sake of all things holy-

The pixies zoomed around, wrecking the entire classroom; it began to throw books and quils -whatever they could reach. Students scattered this way and that. Jack fired a blasting hex toward one of the pixies, and ten more zoomed up to him to avenge their comrade.

"Come on now- round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!"

"Ah! Aaah! Aaah! Aah- aah! Hey, get me down!" Neville shouted, trapped in the chandelier.

"Get off me!"

"Stop! Stop! Hold still!"

Lcokhart rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

...Wow. Just wow.

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

"Hee, hee, hee!"

"Yeeee-haw!"

"Wheee!"

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight

of the quattro, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"This guy is a total fraud!" Jack complained loudly. "'Pesky pixie pester no me'? Hermione, you and I both know that that's a not a real spell."

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, pointedly ignoring Jack's comment. She pointed her wand toward the pixies. "Immobulus!"

"Hands on?" Said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing —"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —"

"He says he's done," Ron muttered.

Grunting with effort, Jack pushed the last struggling pixie into the cage; snapping the cage door shut, the quattro slumped down, weary.

* * *

"I can't take more of this." Jack muttered, as they walked back to the Common Room. "He is going to make us clean up his mess every lesson."

A poster pasted on the top of the fireplace caught his attention. Walking up toward the hearth, the words plastered on the paper stated:

**WANTED: NEW CHASER FOR THE GRYFFINDOR TEAM**

**Due to one of our Chasers graduating last year, ****we are in need of a new one.**

**The Quidditch Tryouts will take place tonight, September 3rd, **

**out in the Quidditch field, 7:00 PM. ****Ask for Oliver Wood.**

Well, that was quick. Instead of being on the second week the tryouts are held on the third day of school.

He made a mental note to attend the tryout.


	6. The Tryout

The night came quickly. The sky was now light blue when Jack walked up to the Quidditch field; out there, a tall person with medium stature was standing on the field, holding his broom.

"Yo!" Jack gained his attention, waving his hand. "Are you Oliver Wood?"

"Yes." Oliver walked toward Jack and shook his hand in greeting. "You here for the Tryout?"

"Yep. Am I the only one here?"

"Could be." Oliver glanced toward the school. "More people may come. But for now you can be the first to the tryout."

"Sweet. Whose on the team?"

"Well, there are Harry, Angelina, Katie, The Weasley Twins, and then me." Oliver explained. "We used to have Veronica Akerley, but she graduated last year."

"Any reserves?"

"We have Alicia Spinnet as a reserve Chaser."

"Alright. Want to start now?"

"Sure." Oliver picked up a large wooden crate sitting next to him; opening it up, he took out a Quaffle.

"This." Oliver handed the Quaffle toward Jack. "Is called a Quaffle. Your job is to shoot this inside one of three hoops right on the each end of the field. I am a Keeper. My job is to block the Quaffle."

"Sounds simple." Jack nodded. He had tons of practice back at home.

"Now, I'm going to give you this Quaffle. You try to shoot this over the hoop, and I am going to try to block it."

"Okay." Jack grabbed the Quaffle and one of the better school brooms. Oliver flew to the three hoops on the end of the field. Clutching the red object in his arms, Jack rushed toward the goal. Flying toward the middle goal, he threw the Quaffle.

In one sweeping motion Oliver caught the ball by his fingertips.

"Not bad. Almost let that one in. Try again."

His determination reinforced, Jack dove to the goal post, punching the red ball inside. Wood had no time to react.

"Now that's what I am talking about! Let's do that again."

Wood missed the next two; he caught the third one, Jack scored the next five, Wood caught the next two. Soon Wood had difficult time trying to block the Quaffle.

"Excellent..." Wood excitingly rubbed his hand, his hands gleaming. "One of the best Chasers I've seen; did your father play Quidditch?"

"He played Seeker. I took a look at this team picture."

"Ah. Weird how Quidditch positions change in the family." Wood took a brief glance at his watch. "That's enough for now; I see more people coming. I'll let you know if you got the spot."

"Alright. See you soon."

* * *

"Hey. You're Jack Black, right?"

A timid voice beside him woke Jack up; he had been sleeping on his chair next to the fireplace.

"Yes..." Jack slurred, groggy.

"I heard that you are great at Potions; I was thinking whether you had Developing Solution. According to my friend it will make pictures move!" The voice became progressively more excited.

"Probably." Jack searched inside his bag. "What's your name?"

"Colin. Colin Creevy."

"Oh yeah, you're that kid..." Jack took out a vial. "Swelling Potion; nope... Ah, here it is." Jack handed a small bottle filled with grey liquid toward Colin. "First customer; free of charge. Knock yourself out."

"Thanks!" Colin excitedly grabbed the potion, and ran toward his bed.

Jack began to doze again in his chair, until Oliver walked into the Common Room.

"Jack, Jack." Oliver shook him awake. "You're in."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. That's great!" Jack beamed at Oliver, trying to look as very excited as possible for someone who just woke from his sleep. "Think I'll go to bed." Jack muttered as he got up from his chair.

"We have our first practice on Saturday at dawn." Oliver continued. "Got a broom?"

"I'll mail home to buy something. Two days should be enough."

"Alright. don't forget!"

"'Course I won't." Mumbled Jack, as he walked toward his bed.

* * *

The night before the Saturday, Jack made sure that he had everything; his new broom: Turbo XXX and his Quidditch gears.

Jack picked up his wand and waved it in the air.

"_Expergo Horologium._"

A transparent clock burst forth; its hands spinning wildly at first, and settling into the correct time.

Walking to his bed, Jack settled inside the covers.

As soon as he closed his eyes he was awakened by great clamor; he lifted his head and squinted at the clock, the shorter hand pointing at five.

Yawning, he rose out of bed and struggled toward the bathroom. He never woke up this early before. Dumping his head inside cold water, he struggled to stay awake; the semi-consciousness was relentless, constantly dragging him toward the bed. The lure of flying was the only thing that kept him awake.

"Jack." waved Wood as the former walked into the Changing Room, his gears on and carrying a broom. "Good. You're the first one here. Is Harry coming?"

"Still sleeping, last time I saw him." Jack sat down on a bench.

"Lazy bones." Wood muttered, standing up. "I'll go get 'em."

Soon after, the rest of the team came inside. The two other Chasers walked in, sitting on the left and right of Jack. The Weasley Twins came in, looking like they could fall asleep at any moment. Oliver walked inside after them.

"Harry is coming." Oliver picked up several cardboards leaning on the wall. Setting up a small platform, he supported the cardboard pieces on the wooden platform just as Harry walked in.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" Said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference. . . ."

On the first cardboard a large diagram of a Quidditch field was painted on, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

Jack was pretty sure that Wood was pointedly ignoring him; Jack looked around to see other team mates struggling and doing their best to stay awake.

Hah. He slept early in preparation.

"We are going to review that tactics we tried out last year, and to see how well they fared against other houses. I am also introducing new playing formations. First thing's first: Angelina and Katie, the Hawkshead Flying Formation worked really well last year. Introduce Jack to the formation and how it works. George, the Dopplebeater Defence tactics turned out to be a good idea; just practice your aim a little bit.

On and on he went on, as Wood pulled out more and more diagrams explaining the tactics.

"So," said Wood, at long last, "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately — owing to circumstances beyond our control —"

Wood stopped, pain contorting his features. He was still oppressed by the last year's defeat; Jack shuddered at the memory. Wood took a moment to regain control of himself.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before. . . . Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium.

Jack mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. Ah, the thrill of flying took hold of him as he raced toward the goal.

"Harry!" Jack waved toward him. "Race ya to the goal!"

Both of them flew toward the goal, neck and neck.

"Jack!" Katie waved. "Over here!"

Changing his direction, Jack flew over to the two Chasers.

"We are going to teach you about Hawkshead Flying Formation." Angelina explained. "Basically, we fly in V shaped pattern in order to intimidate our opponents. Of course, only one Chaser is allowed in a goal at any time.

"Two or more Chasers inside the scoring area at the same is a foul - why is Wood landing?" Frowned Katie, as she observed Wood, Harry and the Twins landing on the ground.

The entirety of the Slytherin Team swaggered onto the field; Wood was having a heated conversation with the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team as the Chasers landed among them.

"-But I booked the field!" Said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

It seemed as though the Slytherin Quidditch team decided to steal the field for their own practice.

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Jack immediately countered. "I, Professor Overgrown Dungeon Bat, give the team filled with losers permission to frolic on the Quidditch field today owning to the fact that I quake in my boots at the thought of my team losing."

The Gyrffindor Team roared in laughter; Flint scowled, clenching his fists in threatening matter.

"Alright, so show me this loser you guys hired."

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" — he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives — "sweeps the board with them."

Tch. He bought his way into the team.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly.

"Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" Said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Oh no he did not.

The entire Gryffindor team was at instant uproar: Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!", and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team was paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

Jack's eyes twitched.

"Oh, so you think that's funny?" Jack snarled, plunging his hands inside his pocket. "Well, let me know of how you think of this!" Pulling out a thin cylindrical vial filled with dark liquid, he threw it toward Malfoy's face.

Curse shot from Flint's wand shattered it in midair, although a bit too late; dark purple cloud briefly embraced the Slytherin Team. The smoke cleared revealing seven players looking positively green; all of them doubling over at the same time, they began to throw up the contents of their breakfast onto the pitch.

Jack nodded toward the stunned looking Wood. "We better get going. Best to escape from the scene of the crime. We'll practice tomorrow." Jack took a look around. "Where are Harry, Ron, and Hermione?"

"They went to get help." Angelina looked anxious. "I hope he is ok."

"Nice one." Grinning, Fred patted Jack's back. "What potion was that, by the way?"

"Not sure, really. I just took out and threw a random potion. But I think it is Drought of Regurgitation."

They chortled as they walked back to the castle.

"So what now? Do you think they will tattle?" Wood looked anxious. "We can't afford a detention."

"If they tattle, then we will tell them about the "M" word." Jack grimaced. "They are stupid, but not that stupid."

* * *

They were that stupid.

Turns out the whole team tattled on Jack; Snape turned deaf ears to Jack's protest and assigned him to clean up the Quidditch field as the punishment. When Jack turned to McGonagall, she was scandalized, assigning Malfoy to help Jack during his detention.

Their resentful feelings were self-explanatory.

Jack and Malfoy worked until the nightfall, with Filch supervising them every so often - "Filth! Filth! The abominable bile of dastardly students! Filth!" - Jack and Malfoy kept shooting dark looks of loathing toward each other.

* * *

With a growl, Jack stalked out of the dormitory; having taken a cool shower, he planned to sleep. But he did not eat anything that day; trying to sleep with empty stomach was harder than he thought. Taking out the Marauder's Map and whispering the incantation, Jack ducked out of the Gryffindor Portrait Hole, and walked off to the Kitchen.

Upon walking down the staircase beneath the Great Hall, he was presented with a painting of a bowl of fruit.

Glancing at his map, he saw that the Kitchen was directly behind the painting. He saw himself on the map lifting his minute left hand, touching the left part of the painting.

Frowning, Jack stretched out his hand and touched the left side of the painting, consequently touching the pear. The pear trembled. Jack began to make circular motions with his hand; it giggled, and it transformed into a green doorknob.

Jack twisted the doorknob, opening the door. He was met with a room of great proportions. The Kitchen was as large as the Great Hall, with five tables identical to the tables in Great Hall with the same position.

Walking up to a refrigerator, he took out a piece of Gouda Cheese and began to eat; what he did not expect was to hear someone behind him.

"Hello Jack." A dreamy voice interrupted his eating.

Choking, Jack whipped around.

The bright moonlight through the windows illuminated her face. She was Luna.

"Oh. Hey Luna." Jack took a goblet from the fridge, taking a swig. "Didn't see ya there..."

"Quite alright." Luna smiled. She was sitting cross legged against the wall, cradling a bottle of pumpkin juice in her arms.

Taking out a sandwich, Jack walked up to Luna and sat down right next to her.

"Sandwich?" Jack offered, splitting it in half. Luna silently took the piece and began to nibble.

They ate silently for a while. Jack silently chewed his sandwich, his mind racing with numerous thoughts. It was some coincidence, meeting her in the Kitchen late at night. Why was she there? How was her current experience with her peers?

After Jack finished his sandwich, after taking another drink from his goblet, he attempted to strike up a conversation.

"So, what brings you to the Kitchen?"

"Oh, well, I had slight nausea after eating breakfast, so I skipped lunch and dinner; after everyone went to sleep it did go away. I visited the Kitchens to eat some pudding."

"I see. Well, why didn't you just go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Well..." Luna placed her bottle down on the floor. "I suspect that my other classmates had something to do with my nausea; maybe they spiked my food or something. After I went to the bathroom I wasn't in the mood to see anyone."

Jack hands clenched tightly on his goblet.

"I don't think I'll go back to the Ravenclaw Dormitory. Perhaps I'll sleep here for tonight."

His anger momentarily forgotten, Jack turned to face Luna. "Here!?"

"Here." Luna placidly responded. "Maybe my body will be stiff in the morning, but I really don't want to go back to there."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed as he was beginning to get concerned for Luna. It must be serious if she was willing to sleep inside a chilly Kitchen. What if she came down with a cold?

"Well." Jack replied after a moment of thought. "If you don't want to go back there, you could sleep in my bed instead."

Jack realised the implication of his invitation the moment after he uttered his sentence; what was he thinking, saying stuff like that?

"Really?" Luna turned to look at Jack with her bright, grey eyes.

"Uhh, sure." How was he supposed to say no to the face like that? "I could sleep against the bedpost..." he finished lamely.

"But won't you be uncomfortable?"

"But at least it will be warm."

"Okay, let's go!" Luna jumped up, pulling Jack along with her, who was looking bewildered at her sudden movement.

* * *

Walking up the Gryffindor Dormitory, Jack opened the portrait door which was left slightly ajar deliberately. Walking in silently, Jack led her inside.

"So here is my bed." Jack whispered, pushing aside the curtains around his bed. "It would be better if you got out in the morning before any of my friends in here wakes up; they'll freak."

"Oh, it's all right. I'll wake up early enough." She smiled. "Thank you."

And then she hugged him, and crawled into the bed, closing the curtains.

Jack stood rooted on the spot.

Slowly settling down by the bedpost, he sat awake. His mind refused to calm down.


	7. The Deathday Party

"Hey, Jack! Wake up!"

Jack opened his eyes to see a face peering over him, shaking his shoulders awake.

"You're going to be late for breakfast! Come on!" Ron stood up, walking toward the door.

Grunting with grogginess, Jack slowly stood up, yawning.

"Why were you sleeping outside of your bed?" Ron asked, as they walked down to the Great Hall.

"Must have sleepwalked." Jack grunted.

"Sleepwalked? So that was you, who walked out of the dormitory at early morning?"

Jack turned sharply toward Ron. "Walking out?"

"Walking out of the dormitory. I thought it was you, by where the sound came from."

"You didn't see me leave?"

"No... why?"

"No reason." Tiny relief spread across his face. "I must have gotten thirsty and walked out of the bed..."

"But there is a water jug at the windowsill just for that."

"Ron, you know how brains are like when we are semiconscious - they're dead useless."

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Jack's gaze met Ginny, who was poking at her food, despite the protests from her brothers.

Jack could not help but notice over those months the state of Ginny. She was beginning to develop a pale complexion, often stared aimlessly into nothing, and ate less and less.

The questions Jack asked Ginny were pretty useless in getting anything out of her, and Jack had other things to worry about.

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the Quidditch player from their arranged practice, according to Wood, and in result they practiced outside late at night, ignoring the rain.

Granted, Slytherin Team's brooms were far superior, but he was not about to let them lose. He was going to show them with his Turbo XXX and his mad skillz.

"Hey Jack," Fred caught up to Jack as he left breakfast. "We need pranking help."

"Alright. What do you need?"

"We're trying to feed a salamander with a firework. It's classified as XXX creature, which means that only competent wizards should cope with. I was thinking we could use a little more manpower.

"Is Lee helping?"

"Yep. Here is the plan. You and Lee hold the salamander. Be careful because it can be slippery and its always trying to escape."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"I will hold its mouth open as George stuff it with Filibuster's Firework."

"Ain't that considered an animal cruelty?"

"So what do you say?"

"Sounds fun. Count me in."

"Great! We'll have to hurry since it can only live up to six hours outside of fire, and that's even with feeding it pepper. After the last class meet us in Common Room. See you there."

The process of feeding the salamander was, in a way, interesting. It was hard to hold on to wiggling salamander even with Griffin Hide gloves, and it took them various tries for 30 minutes, but in the end they succeeded; the final result was a brilliant orange salamander, sparks flying from its mouth.

"It's glorious..." Jack whispered as he observed the salamander, who decided to finally stay still. "Magnificent..."

"The firework is going to launch soon..." Fred took a look at his watch.

A whole crowd of Gryffindors gathered, taking a look at the salamander.

"Jack, I have something to tell you." Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked up to Jack. "Nick invited us to his 500th deathday party."

"Deathday party? Cool. I only read about them in books." Jack slipped his gloves off. "Can't wait. When is it?"

"At Halloween." Hary replied.

"Tell him I'm going. Should I bring a gift?"

"...A gift?" They all looked at Hermione.

She shrugged. "Don't think they actually expect a gift... Besides, what can you give to a ghost?"

"There is something else I want to tell you guys." Harry began. "When I was in Filch's office-"

He was interrupted with a loud bang; the salamander took off, Jack ducking just in time for it to whiz ahead of him. It careened and curved around the room, fire shooting from his mouth with accompanying bangs. It knocked over ink wells and books and set fire to a table which George hastily put out. Upon hitting Percy at the back of the head, it whizzed into the fire creating an explosion.

_**"-AGAIN WITH YOUR LACK OF ATTENTION TO RULES-"**_ Percy began to shout.

_**"-I'M THIS CLOSE TO WRITING TO MOTHER-"**_

Any thought of telling his friends about Filch's Kwikspell was driven from Harry's mind.

oOo

Upon walking down to the dungeons into the dark hallway with gloomy blue lights, Jack was suddenly reminded of MMORPG game boss dungeons. The temperature steadily became colder as they approached the party.

Pulling out a black feathered earmuff from his every deep backpack, Jack placed the earmuff over his head. Harry sent an inquisitive look over his direction.

"You'll see." Jack replied to Harry mysteriously.

Coming around the corner, they heard a wretched sound of fingernails dragging across the blackboard.

"You hear that?" Jack indicated toward the corner, to which his friends nodded. "I have sensitive ears. The mere thought of such sound makes me cringe." Walking around the corner they saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome . . . so pleased you could come. . . ."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

Jack drank the surroundings. The room was filled to brim with ghosts, pearly white and translucent, all dancing around to what seemed like music coming from the center of the room where a raised black draped platform stood, with thirty musical saws levitated on the top, creating the dreadful sound.

Casting a spell on that general direction to repel the noise from reaching his ears, Jack took off his earmuffs.

"This is groovy... Totally radical!" Jack beamed at Harry. "I'm going to take a look around, ok?"

He ran off, trying to get a good look. Perhaps there was a ghost he could recognize... Whoa.

No. Way.

Over there, dancing with Anne Hathaway, was William Shakespeare.

Jack ran over, disregarding other ghosts.

"You are William Shakespeare!" Jack declared, as he stood in front of the couple.

"Why, thou silly gentleman! Thou interrupteth our dance."

The years of reading Shakespearean works gave him nearly enough knowledge to have Early Modern English rolling off of his tongue.

"Sir, give me headeth. Art thou not advised, thou art famous in our ageth?"

"By the faith of man I knoweth my price," Shakespeare replied. "I quit thee in my mercy."

Darn. Speaking like this was hard. Waving Shakespeare farewell, Jack ran around, meeting various dead celebrities. Jack only wished that ghosts were corporeal enough to sign autographs.

"Yo! I'm having some incredible vibes over here!"

Jack whipped around to see a group of people resembling Hip Hop musicians; wearing mood rings, parachute pants, carrying boom boxes, with mullet hairstyle. Jack ran up to them.

"Groovy clothing, man!"

"Thanks man. We got all the way over here from 'Murica from our Peace-Copter."

"Some nice bling blings you go there." Jack complemented the mood rings."

"This is something phat. Totally tells our mood. Cost us loads of papers with dead presidents on." He turned toward the musical saws. "This music ain't hot, tho."

"Ah, the music. I'll take care of that."

Stepping up to the black platform, Jack shooed away the musical saws. Digging out a magical mike and a magically powered MP3 Player from his bag, he turned the iPod on, turning the volume wayyy up.

A 70's Hip Hop music flowed from the iPod. Couples on the dance floor paused, looking inquisitively toward the young boy overtaking the stage. Readying his mike, Jack began to rap.

{People Under The Stairs – Youth Explosion}

_Venice boardwalk, to watch the choppers of V_

_From South Bay to Pasadena, yo we back on the scene_

_From 110, 10 405 to 5 my 9 to 5_

_Makin' it live, some flash bulb when we arrive_

_Got the city on lock, block for block, as we stomp through_

_Pop crews shining like new cop shoes_

_Keepin' a beat, we made it_

_Top of Friday night brothas always stay faded_

_And been underrated for a long time now_

_So take your black album, eat a peg_

_You can read it front page, people under the minimum wage_

_You freestyles are rockin'em still_

_High-profile like roof tiles on Echo Park Hill_

_Next step, payin' bills, stay dippin' like yolo Mike_

_On an LA night, chillin' out in the heights (right)_

_So who can make it tight (we)_

_First initial the (P)_

_U-T-S Thes One and Double K just be_

_Rippin' up a track, on attack like a tyrant_

_Pullin' out the rhyme books, stack'em up, yo admire it_

_Fire it up, do the sissy strut down Sterns_

_Earning money for your liquor, sacks, blunts, and golden burg_

_It's a way of life and since you're living fat, be advised_

_P is back, stealin' old records and your fries_

_Black, guard your headphones_

_We're internationally owned_

_For salmon like bones on show microphones_

_But before that's said we gotta make sure that everyone out there is ready_

_(Let's go!)_

"Now this is more like it!" Cried the hip hoppers, as they began to walk on the platform and break danced. Other ghosts shrugged, dancing to the beat.

Jack began to change his music. Now folk rock music came out from the MP3 as Jack struggled to take out a acoustic guitar from his bag. Also taking out a harmonica and a neck mount, he mounted the harmonica on front of his lips.

{Like A Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan}

_Once upon a time you dressed so fine_

_You threw the bums a dime in your prime..._

Taking a deep breath, Jack produced a unique tone.

_Didn't you?_

_People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"_

_You thought they were all kiddin' you_

_You used to, laugh about_

_Everybody that was hangin' out_

_Now you don't, talk so loud_

_Now you don't, seem so proud_

_About having to be scrounging, for your next meal._

_How does it feel?_

_How does it feel?_

_To be without a home_

_Like a complete unknown_

_Like a rolling stone_

_You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely_

_But you know you only used to get juiced in it_

_And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street_

_And now you find out you're gonna have to get, used to it_

_You said you'd never compromise_

_With the mystery tramp, but know you realize_

_He's not selling any alibis_

_As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes_

_And say do you want to make a deal? _

_How does it feel?_

_How does it feel?_

_To be on your own_

_With no direction home_

_Like a complete unknown_

_Like a rolling stone_

_You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns_

_When they all come down and did tricks for you_

_You never understood that it ain't no good_

_You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you_

_You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat_

_Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat_

_Ain't it hard when you discover that_

_He really wasn't where it's at_

_After he took from you everything he could steal._

_How does it feel?_

_How does it feel?_

_To be on your own_

_With no direction home_

_Like a complete unknown_

_Like a rolling stone_

Ghosts from sixties stood up and clapped enthusiastically. Jack placed the guitar and the harmonica back inside, this time taking out an electric guitar. Jack clicked the buttons on his player. This time, a rock and roll 50's music streamed out. The magical guitar strumming on its own, Jack began to sing:

{Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry}

_Deep down Louisiana close to New Orleans_

_Way back up in the woods among the evergreens_

_There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood_

_Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode_

_Who never ever learned to read or write so well_

_But he could play the guitar just like a ringing a bell_

_Go go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Johnny B. Goode_

_He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack_

_Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track_

_Oh, the engineers would see him sitting in the shade_

_Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made_

_People passing by they would stop and say_

_Oh my that little country boy could play_

_Go go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Johnny B. Goode_

_His mother told him "Someday you will be a man,_

_And you will be the leader of a big old band._

_Many people coming from miles around_

_To hear you play your music when the sun go down_

_Maybe someday your name will be in lights_

_Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight."_

_Go go_

_Go Johnny go_

_Go go go Johnny go_

_Go go go Johnny go_

_Go go go Johnny go_

_Go_

_Johnny B. Goode_

The entire ghost population cheered and clapped. Taking out his acoustic guitar again, Jack changed the music on his MP3 Player; now a Psychedelic Rock flowed out.

{Yellow Submarine - Beatles}

_In the town where I was born,_

_Lived a man who sailed to sea,_

_And he told us of his life,_

_In the land of submarines, _

_So we sailed on to the sun,_

_Till we found the sea green,_

_And we lived beneath the waves,_

_In our yellow submarine,_

"Now I want everyone to sing along with me! Let's go!" Jack waved to the crowd.

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine,_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine._

_And our friends are all aboard,_

_Many more of them live next door,_

_And the band begins to play._

_(Trumpets play)_

"Once more!"

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine,_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine._

_(Full speed ahead, Mr. Boatswain full speed ahead!_

_Full speed it is, Sgt_

_Cut the cable, Drop the cable _

_Aye, aye, sir, Aye, aye_

_Captain! Captain!)_

_As we live a life of ease(life of ease)_

_Every one of us(every one of us) has all we need,(has all we need) _

_Sky of blue,(sky of blue) and sea green,(sea of green)_

_In our yellow(In our yellow) submarine.(submarine) (Haha!)_

"Last time!"

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine,_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine._

_(fading)_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine,_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_yellow submarine, yellow submarine._

Jack was enveloped in cheer as he stepped down from the stage. Man, did it feel glorious!


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys,

Sorry for the lack of update; after taking several months of break, I have again regained inspiration and will to continue the story (to the tell the truth, I became less and less attracted to the HP series until I had nothing better to do than to gain ideas from other stories). I have decided to rewrite the entirety of the first one in this series, Jack Black and the Stoned Philosophers. It will take some time, and after that, I will continue this story.


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